Tales of a Medical Intuitive

This one was hard.  The four friends had travelled several hours to meet with me.  They sat in my living room enjoying their tea, laughing and talking to one another.  I watched my cats.  They always alert me when I need to pay special attention to someone.  Booboo, my sweet, chubby, old black cat was sitting next to one of the men and was gently pawing him in the face.  Booboo never comes out for these things-it is usually Linus at work- but he wanted to make sure I didn’t miss something.  I didn’t.  When the appointment was made over text, I was told that one of them had cancer but I wasn’t told who.  I knew the second he walked in.

I went from person to person, drawing what I saw physically, explaining what was spiritual and what was physical.  Light heartedness filled the room.  Eyes gently filled with tears and nods told me I was connected to Creator and giving information correctly.

Every reading is different.  I hear things from the spirit world.  Sometimes I am a medium.  I feel things intensely; the client’s anxiety, heartbreak, headaches, knee pain.  I am shown things, I see things.  Anything that helps me to understand the message.  Most of the time the person sitting in front of me suspects an illness, or is very open to guidance for their life right now, and knows and understands each thing I say.  Some come in completely closed.

When I got to him, I sensed his wall.  His protection.  His doubt.  His fear.  He had already gone through four rounds of chemotherapy and radiation to no avail.  He still had hope.  I listened.  I drew.  I was shown cancer cells shattering, exploding like a bomb all through his body.  I heard that it was one hundred percent spiritual.  His body looked like a night sky filled with millions of stars.  The cancer was everywhere.  I then heard the words, military, veteran, war, bomb, HSP, empath. 

“Were you in the military?” I asked him.  He shook his head no.

“Are you a highly sensitive person? Do you feel other people’s pain?”  Again, he shook his head no.

What are you guys trying to tell me? I whispered to the spirits.  I immediately felt anger.  I saw him as a little boy being beaten by his father.

“It’s your dad!” I practically yelled.  “Was he in the military?”

“In Korea,” he answered.

I suddenly saw everything clearly.  His father was a highly sensitive person, an empath, forced to be a “man.”  In the war he witnessed and took part in such atrocities that afterwards he became an alcoholic and was very abusive.  These wounds were passed down to the man before me.

I heard that if he did not forgive his father and heal these wounds that he would have no more than two years to live.

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I am not a doctor, of course, so I cannot diagnose.  The majority of people that come to me already know or suspect what is going on.  They can go a holistic healing route with me but I also always recommend that they should see a doctor if they feel that is the right step.

A woman used to come into my shop often to buy medicine for her dog.  She was very religious.  For some reason, many Christians do not believe that God can work this way.  Anything a bit woohoo is probably of the Devil.  So when I saw her heart, I couldn’t just come right out and say something.  I would say every time she came in, “You should try our heart medicine!  It is great!  It’s on sale!  Here I will just give you a bottle to try!”  She would always decline.  I’d ask nonchalantly if she had seen a doctor lately.  She had.  Then she had a massive stroke and a heart attack.

Just because we are sent to be healers in this world does not mean we can heal everyone.  Sometimes it is hard to see but not be able to help.

Sometimes it is easy.  I placed my hand on her foot.  It had been hurting for a long time.  She didn’t show me where it was hurting but my hand instantly went to the hairline fracture.  She was a friend of mine so I told her what I saw and felt and sent her with my bone heal liniment.  She went to the doctor and it was confirmed that she had a hairline fracture in that very place.

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If you have read my memoir, The Making of a Medicine Woman; the Memoirs of Bird Woman, you know that I ran from these gifts for a long time!  But I love being able to offer divine assistance, advice, clarity, reunite loved ones, help people heal physically, mentally, spiritually, and to be a speaker for Creator and the spirit is world is a profound honor.

I have another blog that I usually write these types of things on but I have decided to combine them.  Because they are not separate. I can be a chicken raising, gardening guru, entertainer and chef, crafting farmgirl and also be psychic.  It is what it is.

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So friends, I want to let you know that this is what I do.  I am a medical intuitive and guide.  I do readings over the phone or in person.  My medical intuitive readings include three custom medicines.  I don’t set a timer but readings usually last an hour.  If you feel a nudge from Spirit, feel free to set up a meeting with me.  Katie@PumpkinHollowFarm.net

And click here to order my memoir!

The Light Workers

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Perhaps you have never heard of an HSP.  You may know them as other descriptions such as too sensitive,  anxious, depressed, only has a few friends, doesn’t like school, often sensitive to overhead lighting, loud noise, overstimulation, too many people, often the brunt of bullying, cry baby.  Teenaged HSP’s get diagnosed as bi-polar (particularly females), ADD, ADHD, depressed, or anxious.  Big Pharma makes a fair amount of money “fixing” these beautiful people to make them “normal”.  But all they do is shut off their innate abilities.

I held in my hands a women’s magazine and read the small captioned news bit.  HSP, or Highly Sensitive Person, is a person more in tune with their natural surroundings.  Often sensitive to artificial lighting, loud noise, crowds, overstimulation, and….  I think my mouth must have dropped open.  Never in my life had I read such a perfect description of myself.  I was always told I was “too sensitive”.  An HSP certainly sounded nicer.  I have talked with more plants, trees, and animals in my life than people.

Now, here is the thing about HSP’s, they are also often times very intuitive, clairvoyant, whatever your comfort word for it is.  Some can see spirits, some are our medical intuitives, some are the foreseers, and always, always empaths.  The reason we are so dang sensitive is because we literally feel everything that we see or read about.  I cannot read novels of violence or suspense, I will feel the violence.  Same with movies.  Sadness in other people made ten times more amplified.  News…forget about it.  HSP’s must never read the news.  Happiness is felt more intensely as well.

HSP’s are what many call “old souls”.  Many of us remember past lives even.  Many are wise before they ought to be and just seem….odd.  HSP’s are not considered autistic but may border the autism frequencies, highly intelligent, intuitive, aware of everything.  Our healers.  Our lightworkers.  With an intense desire to become a hermit!  But we cannot hide out.  There is much work to do.

As a child I don’t know if I ever met another HSP but as an adult, as the phrase became more known, I have met more.  My mentor, old roommate, Hopi friend is an HSP.  We talk about it quite a lot.  He is a hospice chaplain and brilliant at his work.  He told me once that there are not very many of us and I, at the time, believed him.  Until I opened my shop.  My shop is a magnet for HSP’s.  Parents bringing in “anxious” young people, young adults coming in on their own that have been classified as one thing or another who just need to know that their abilities and gifts are important and are not a malady, older adults that never could put their finger on it.  Our healers.  Our light workers.

Elbert county is an interesting place.  Part rancher, part cowboy, part home on the range, with an inordinate number of energy healers, artists, right brained society and young people, many more than I ever would have guessed, who are intuitive.  My work morphs from simply making plant medicines to teaching these young people how to filter, how to work with their empathy, their “knowing”, their light.  That they are indeed normal.

If you know or meet someone like this, smile at them.  Know that they are the healers of tomorrow, and that there is an entire society of too sensitive folk out there about to make the world a much better place.

The Life of a Healer- Part 2 (gifts and fire)

I think you would have liked her.  She was a very nice girl, naïve and not equipped with a lot of common sense, but a very nice girl.  I remember her to be very compassionate.  At six years old Wildflower pointed to a truck load of sheep and asked where they were going.  Her father told her they were going to be dinner.  Wildflower was horrified at the very notion.  When she was twelve years old she read in a teen magazine about a lifestyle called vegetarianism and was so excited to find such a thing that she adopted it immediately.  Being such a lover of and having such a connection to animals seemed so contradictory to eating them.

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This was about the time her intuition began.  A nervous feeling in her stomach wracked her for hours at school one day and she simply could not figure out what was wrong.  She learned that afternoon that her friend’s house had caught fire that morning and had burned.  As she grew older she started having dreams of tragedies before they hit the news.  She was so upset by these things and confided in her grandmother.  A funny thing about intuitive abilities, they remain secret among families.  It turned out that Wildflower’s grandmother had been a medical intuitive.  Her sisters were all highly intuitive.  Her nieces were too.  Wildflower’s sister was finding her own abilities.  A strong gift was evident among the female family members but one would have to search to learn about it.  Wildflower’s grandmother told her how to shut off what she didn’t want to see.  What Wildflower was left with was the ability to know when the phone was about to ring.  She still didn’t know what her gifts were or how they would be used in the future.  A very close family member told Wildflower these things were of the devil and to denounce them.  But the intuition continued though it was weak for there were many other things going on in Wildflower’s life.

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As she held her newborn son, after barely turning nineteen, in a cold hospital room with two beds, another mother holding a screaming infant across from her, she took in the beautiful sight of her new love.  Her son was beautiful and small, a perfect gift from the Creator.  She, of course, had other plans now.  There wasn’t a convent in her future.  Something more pressing and passionate had overcome her, motherhood.

One year before she had met in school a quiet, brooding, mysterious, artistic boy who was both charming and confusing.  A decision turned to an infant and Wildflower felt that she should stay with him even though he showed signs of intense anger and would go for months without even uttering a word to her.  I told you she was naïve.  Very nice though.  You would have liked her.  You just would have felt sorry for her for she was truly a clueless child and felt if she got married, things would work out.  If she had another child, things would work out.

As she sat huddled in the small basement after being locked in there, six months pregnant and holding onto her frightened two year old, she wondered how she had gotten to this place.  She heard the leaves and kindling being shoved around the door and the sound of a match.  The door was being set on fire.